لا أتذكر
by Jadeah
Summary: When Malik goes missing, Altair has to go to Jerusalem and look for him. Little does he know that the man will be harder to find than he first thought.
1. Chapter 1

**You guys remember that fic about Ezio's memory loss I wrote a while back? If you do, great. If you don't, oh well, go read it. I suddenly got this random itch to write another story similar. But because I ALWAYS use Ezio (Ezio: And I'm getting tired of the nonsense...) I decided that this time around I'll poke some fun at Malik and Altair. (Malik: You can't be serious... - Altair: *getting ready to run as far away as possible*) NO ESCAPES! *locks the door* Alright, so lets get this started off, lemme know what you think guys!**

It was quiet. Quiet, dry, stuffy, and hot as it always was in the bureau. Malik sighed and rubbed the sweat from his brow as he continued to stare down at the map on his desk and the quill in his hand. He had once again suffered from a bad night's sleep, where -despite his exhaustion- he couldn't seem to keep his mind at ease. It was hard to fall asleep, and sometimes when he was semi-conscious he saw from the corner of his eye Kadar fighting, bloody and holding a wound on his stomach.

That's when he heard a thud of someone landing on the floor just outside the room. He didn't even look up from his work, knowing it was just another assassin passing through. Just about to ask for his plan's approval. Regardless, Malik paid little mind to the man and listened to him absently.

"And are you sure that you will be able to get close enough to take him out quietly?" He questioned.

"If I'm correct, it shouldn't be too hard. The man is arrogent and believes he does not need guards around his chambers. I will sneak in when the patrol passes and kill him before anyone can notice."

Malik sighed and looked up. "Fine." He passed him a feather and reclaimed the quill in his grasp. "Try not to get yourself too wounded, I would prefer not to have to clean up the blood."

"Thank you." The novice said, ignoring his last comment before leaving.

With this, Malik continued to work on the map, trying to draw out the structures. Although the task of writing had been difficult once, as his lack of a hand made it impossible to hold down the parchment, he simply got used to a paper weight to help with the task.

Another thump of someone landing in the bureau.

"Nawfal?"

No reply.

Malik walked around his desk and started towards the doorway, unsure what to think of the lack of an answer. When he came out to the entrance, he pulling himself outside and looked around. No one had landed in the courtyard below, so he figured that maybe they left. Clearly this must have been the case. Shaking his head and grumbling "Foolish novice..." to himself he turned back towards the entrance to the bureau.

As he crouched to drop himself in, something crashed against his head. He was sent forward to fall down to the foor of the courtyard, pain throbbing throughout his entire body. Through darkening vision, he stared up at the two silloettes standing in the entrance. And listened to the voices.

"You said he wouldn't be harmed!"

"It was your own fault. Now get rid of him, before anything goes wrong."

"Yes..."

Unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he let them fall closed, and allowed darkness and cold to take his pain away...

* * *

><p>Altair swung his sword out as his opponent moved to block the advance. Even though they weilded training equipment, the edges dull, they still packed enough force to bruise skin or break bones. In training, it wasn't uncommon for the less experienced to need some form of care afterwards.<p>

Then from behind, he heard Sahl call him over. He looked to his sparring partner with slight disappointment that they could not finish the match and put the training weapon away as he walked over to the fellow Assassin who stood at the wall dark eyes blank and unreadable.

"What?" Altair asked, crossing his arms.

Sahl straightened. "Al Mualim wants to speak with you. Something about Jerusalem."

To this Altair begun to worry. He knew that if it had anything to do with that city then he would have to deal with Malik's insults and critisim. Nothing he had to look forward to. Sighing, he nodded and walked inside. He just stepped up the stairs and came to the master without much said.

Al Mualim was staring out the window when he arrived, and turned around to face him. "Altair, I know you just returned from Acres but something's come up."

"What came up?" He questioned emotionlessly. Somehow since his previous arguements with the older, he was a little more causious. He guarded his words, but should he be yelled at he would answer with equal vemon in his tone. "Another target?"

"No." The old man sighed heavily. "I wish it were something of that nature. But I've just recieved word that Malik has gone missing."

To this, Altair was swamped with questions. Malik missing? It seemed like an oximoron to him, as a man like Al-Sapf doesn't just vanish. Did some assassin come in with an assignment and had to speak to him only to find he wasn't there? What if Malik was just buying incense or some sort of supplies and hadn't come back yet? And should he be worried? He could handle himself, right?

"You're shocked." Al Mualim stated, reading it right off the younger's face.

"I am..." Altair confirmed. "Malik doesn't seem like the kind of man who would just disappear."

"He hasn't been in the bureau for days. I would have sent another, but I didn't think the job would have been suitable for anyone else." He explained. "Go to Jerusalm, see if you can't find him anywhere."

"Alright." Altair agreed and left, mind still swarming with questions.


	2. Chapter 2

Darkness consumed him...

As the blasting ring in his ears begun to fade, and his lead weight eyelids finally managed to flutter open, he found himself being dragged by his ankles. His head throbbed painfully and confusion made its way into clouding his thoughts. What had happened to result in his being dragged was beyond him. All he knew was that it probably wasn't good.

And why were people staring at him? He only turned his head slightly side to side to see the faces of equally confused bystanders. But there was also disgust and some form of unwillingness in their eyes that told him that he couldn't rely on anyone of them to stand up against this mistreatment.

The two men suddenly dropped his ankles, and one spoke out for all to hear.

"We have found one of them! One of their own!" He announced. Then kicked him in the side, he cursed as he pulled his arm towards his side, protecting the possibly bruised skin from further abuse. "Now, he send him and his collaborator to death!"

The man drew a sword and pointed it at the other, to which the latter backed away with his hands up in defence. "You said that I would be spared if I gave you his location! Why do you turn on your word?"

"I only needed you to help drag his ass here." The other spat. "I hope you enjoy death." Then he swung the blade across his chest, the man fell with a slash that stained his white robes red and left him to bleed on the dirt street. The man pushed his sword back into his shealth then turned to him. "As for you, cripple..." He grabbed him by the robes and hauled him to his unsteady feet, glaring him right in the eye. "I hope you can swim."

And with that, the man threw him behind him, and he was forced to fall into a river, sinking deeper as his lungs begun to burn. He only continued to sink, despite trying to kick towards the surface. It was little use. Very little use.

Then a silloette broke the surface, coming closer. He wanted to light a candleand see this stranger's face, but as you can tell, a candle underwater wouldn't work so well. All he could see was bright blue eyes before he allowed himself to slip under again to escape the burn of his lungs about to give.

* * *

><p>He found himself coughing harshly, water drippling from his lips as he tried to expel the sufficating liquid from his lungs. Because his arm clutched his chest, he wasn't turned over, merely laying on his side. Because of the position, the water slipped down from the corner of his mouth down to the ground where his cheekbone touched the ground.<p>

A hand then gently decented on him, rubbing his shoulder blade carefully. Though his vision restricted him from see the man's face, he still looked up at it as he fought his mind for a name. He couldn't come up with one. All he knew was the eyes, what he thought were a cobalt blue were really a deep gold. Eyes that should have set his thoughts in motion, spark the closed of portion of his brain, only gave him anger which he could not explain.

The hand took hold of his shoulder now in a firm grip as the person's voice rang in his fuzzy mind. "Malik? Are you alright?"

That voice. He knew he should have known it. He couldn't place it. All he knew was that it only made his anger burn harsher. He pulled away from the hand, and rolled on his stomach, coughing still as he pushed himself to a sit. At that moment, he just wanted answers, and this person- whoever he was- probably had them. "Where am I? And who are you?"

With his vision returning, he could see the man's face shadowed by a white hood. The paler skin, and a scar that cut the side of his mouth, splitting his lips. He was kneeling beside him. To his questions, he appeared shocked to say the least. "You must be blind, brother. It's me, Altair."

That name... it was familiar... he didn't know where. He wasn't sure where. And what he had called him, "Malik". His name maybe? And "brother"? Were they related or something? Why else would he call him by such? It made little sense if they weren't. His mind was far from calm.

"I guess it would be pointless in wishing you safety and peace." This man, Altair stated. And then he asked again, "Are you alright?"

Shaking his head, he scooted away from him. "No. Now get away from me."

"Hey, the least you could be is grateful, I pulled _your_ ass out of the water." Altair scolded, irritated. "And you know I'm not a good swimmer..." He grumbled a moment later.

"Would you like a medal?" He retorted, trying to keep his composure with a wall of cyicism and sarcasim. "And no, I don't know."

Now that was way made Altair truly alarmed. He stared at him with his jaw slightly slag before he shook it from his expression. "Wha- what do you mean? It was you and Kadar who almost drowned me to begin with!" He laughed, rather unnerved, trying to settle himself.

"I did?" Can anyone spell confusion? C-O-N-F-U... ugh! Big words hurt head! You get the point. Anyways, he just sat there staring at Altair with an unchanging curious and unknowing look.

Altair stiffened. Then finally took him by the shoulders and glared right at him. It seemed like seconds ticked away like hours until he finally asked hesitantly, "You really have no clue, do you?"

"Not one..." He answered bluntly. "Because that's not what I've been implying this entire time."

Altair sighed heavily. "Of all things, you don't loose your sharp tongue..." Then he stood up and held a hand out for him. "Well, at least I found you and not someone else. Come on, Malik, we should get back to the Bureau. Before whoever threw you in the river finds out you're alive."

He nodded and took the hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. This started their long walk back.

**Yup, second chapter already. I couldn't keep away... Oh well. Hope you like.**

**Reviews fuel my fic, leave one please! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

"So we're not brothers."

He shook his head. "Not by blood like you and Kadar. But we are brothers in arms I suppose. We did grow up together."

"Where is Kadar?"

That's what made Altair freeze, and he stopped and looked at him, waiting for an answer. It was a long minute before Altair told him very unwillingly, "Kadar is dead, Malik."

This set on him like a stone. He had family, but it was gone? What else would he find out about himself, he dared to wonder. Maybe this man would tell him why his left arm is missing and why he seemed to choke when informing him that his brother is gone from this world.

"We're almost to the Bureau." Altair then stated, moving a little faster now. He didn't move faster though, only kept an eye on the back of his white hood as he walked through the crowds.

"Sir, please, if you could part with some coins, it would help I and my family!"

He turned and stared at the beggar. An old man in tattered clothing, though it seemed fair that he should, he wasn't sure if had the time. With a quick apology, he turned to leave him when he noticed something. Altair was gone. He had been there a moment ago! He knew he had been! Where could he have possibly gone?

Panicked, he spun about in search of the unmistakible white robes, only to see nothing but other citizens. He was alone... or thought he was.

A hand grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back, a dagger to his throat. That man, the very being who tried to drown him, hissed, "I should have been more sure of your demise. But, since you have not died... I should take it as a sign that you might be of use to me." He then pulled him away into an alley, and then somewhere beyond what he could try to remember.

This man had then thrown him into a ceil, shackled his one wrist to the wall and left him there. Now trapped there in a cage, he fought vainly, trying to break his bonds through sheer strength which for some part he did not possess. Soon he put an end to his struggle and slumped to the floor, wondering if Altair had found out and started to search for him. Maybe he would be out of this cage before he knew it.

Yeah... he wished...

* * *

><p>After landing in the Bureau he looked back up at the entrance and waited, figuring that the confused cripple would have a harder time than usual getting into the building. He waited for minutes, then he called out for Malik only to not be answered. That's what made him begin to worry.<p>

The assassin climbed out and looked down at the streets only to see people, swarms of citizens. But no Malik. No man in dia's clothing walking among the masses. Even when he used his Eagle Vision Malik did not show. No one appeared in gold, and no one in blue, moving about.

Disappointment and irritation got the better of him, and he kicked some sand on the roof since nothing else was there to kick. He'd have to go out and search for Malik, collect information from others on his where abouts, and go in to get him. Why did Al Mualim asign him this mission anyways, he wondered.

_Because you are the only person alive who knows the man better than anyone... _Why him? It would be Kadar, if he only lived through Solomen's Temple. But no. He was the only person who knew Malik better than anyone. And knew better than most of his temper.

Actually, scratch that... After all the screaming during the amputation of his arm, anyone would get the idea that he has a temper. He shuttered heavily in remembrance of it, then sat down on the edge of the roof to think out his next move.

"Malik... where are you?" He muttered, staring at the slowly darkening sky.

**Yup, short chapter. I know. Altair had him. Then he lost him. GOOD JOB YOU NOVICE! GOOD F*CKING JOB!**

**Will Malik become the hulk and brake through metal chains?  
>Will Altair ever find Malik?<br>****Who is this mysterious man who just captured him?  
>Will I ever stop asking these stupid questions?<strong>

**Find out next chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4

It seemed like ages before the cage was opened, that man stood there before him, torch light flickering across his features. Now that he thought about it, he never really had a chance to look at the man and get an idea what he looked like. Now he could see the scarred face that seemed more a cutting board, and body covered head to toe in white robes, a red cross across his chest. Dark hair cropped uneven and short, probably by a dagger.

The man stomped closer, grabbing him by the front of his robes and pulling him up. In the back of his mind, he couldn't help thinking how awfully familiar this was. But he wasn't aware a smirk had grown across his lips, and it earned him a slap across the face.

"Don't mock me, Assassin." The man hissed in a snakelike voice. "Now tell me what I wish to know, and I might let you live."

Assassin? Where had he heard it before? Every time he blinked, images would flash under his eyelids, too fast for him to remember in detail. Mostly it was of an old man correcting a boy on holding a weapon. Other times it showed dead glassy eyes staring up at him.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the man shaking him. "Don't make me ask you again! What is your name?"

His name... he couldn't recall it... He knew he heard it as of recently, but he couldn't seem to figure out when or what. Or who said it for that matter. "I don't know..."

Now the man's fingers coiled around his throat. "Ha! You wish for me to believe that pitiful excuse? How could a man not know his own name? You're hiding it from me! Speak up now and I will not break your neck!"

To resist being strangled, he tugged on the fingers with his only set of his own, gasping for air only to find it harder and harder to get it. Growing desperate, he twisted his head and tried to bite down on the man's large wrist, grazing the skin with his teeth. Now because the man hadn't readjust his grip to handle him with more causion, the second time worked better. His jaw clamped down, causing the man to scream and shout, throwing him around to get him off. He finally settled to kick him in the stomach, and he opened his mouth, the taste of iron washing over his tongue, to cry out in protest.

"Bastard!" The man shouted at him, gripping his bleeding hand against his chest. "You'll pay for this!"

He simply coughed in responce, holding his possibly bruised midsection.

_..._

_"Brother?" He stared at the door, nervously, he was fidgetting. Why was he so edgy? Once again he knocked on the door. "Kadar, please open this door."_

_The door creaked ajar and there stood a young boy, maybe around early teen years at best. He was short in stature, black hair stuck around his head in a sort of mess only aquired through bedhead, and gray-blue eyes looking up stormily at him. There was an awkwardness to him, a shyness there, almost as though he were terrified and trying to push himself away from something._

_"What, Malik?" He asked quietly._

_He sighed, "Kadar, I know you were watching when I was... ridding the world of that man. I saw you run, so don't play innocent on me."_

_This boy, Kadar, casted his gaze down. "Why did you have to kill him?"_

_"It was an assignment, and he would have continued to threaten more lives if I hadn't killed him." He explained. "It was for the best, brother."_

_Kadar only shook his head. "And your leg? Was it worth having it gashed?"_

_He patted his shoulder in assurence. "It's fine. Don't worry about me." This didn't seem to help the younger, so he asked calmly, "It's something else, what is it? You can tell me."_

_To this, his brother looked back up, meeting his eyes with guilt. "It's just... what if I am not strong enough, Malik? What if I get hurt with these missions."_

_"You are still learning, Kadar. There is nothing to worry about for the time being."_

_"And when I am done training?" Kadar questioned. "Then what? I don't think I would last long."_

_He stared right at him, grasped both his shoulders and stared right at him before telling him assuringly, "I won't let that happen. I will make sure no one hurts you."_

_"You promise?"_

_"With my life." He answered._

...

He shook heavily, pain coursing through his chest, his head, with the memory. It hurt to remember, recall what he apparently lost. It made him feel like crying, but no tears dared form. He figured he was beyond them, and laid his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Wishing to escape from this prison.


End file.
